


The Smallest Feline is a Masterpiece

by MeghanAnna



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Just Add Kittens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 06:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14158788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeghanAnna/pseuds/MeghanAnna
Summary: Bellamy has lived in his apartment for as long as he can remember. He's lived through all the building's changes--when it was filled with families to now it's full of college kids. He doesn't mean to sound like a grumpy old man about it, but he can't help it. They're SO loud and inconsiderate, especially that one blonde girl at the end of his hall.It takes over a year for him to do more than just yell at her, once her friends have moved out of the apartment and she gets a couple of kittens. Bellamy still doesn't like the girl, but he can't deny how damn cute those kittens are.





	The Smallest Feline is a Masterpiece

**Author's Note:**

> bff prompt: Bellarke neighbors + “Listen, I really don’t like you, but you have kittens, so I’m going to be over a lot” au

Bellamy’s lived in his apartment nearly his entire life. He moved in with his mother and sister when he was only six years old. At the time, the building was full of families—mostly single parent families, like his own—and he spent most of his time locked in his room, avoiding the other kids his age because he just didn’t have time—or any interest—for them.

He stayed in the apartment with his sister after their mother died when he was eighteen. He watched and lived through the building change from families to young couples to what it is now—college kids pretending to be adults in their off-campus apartments. And he’s just the same as he always was. He likes to keep to himself, locked in his apartment, away from all the college, or college-aged, kids.

He could very easily move out of the apartment. Octavia did a long time ago, to move in with her boyfriend. He  _ likes  _ his apartment, though. It’s rent controlled and they recently redid his kitchen and his floors, so it feels new—or new _ er _ , at least. But it’s the only home he’s ever known and he’s not going to let a bunch of twenty-year-olds run him out of his own home.

“You sound like an old man,” Miller tells him, not for the first time. “You’re  _ twenty-five _ . Calm down.”

“I’ve lived here for almost twenty years. That’s as long as most of them have been alive!” he reminds his friend—who moved into the building his senior year of college in the first wave of what Bellamy likes to call “the takeover.” They don’t talk about that, though. They both pretend Miller wasn’t the start of it all, so Bellamy can keep complaining about it all he wants. This is why their friends—or, one of the reasons.

“If you’re going to stay here, you’ve got to roll with the changes, man.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy considers, “That sounds entirely too zen for me.”

“Listen,” Miller sighs, taking a long, exasperated sip of his beer, “Wait it out and it’ll be all families again in a few years. Then you’ll really have something to complain about.  _ Little _ kids are way worse than college kids.”

Bellamy has to admit that it’s true. He likes kids—even wants some one day—but, at twenty-five, he’d rather contend with drunk idiots than screaming toddlers. So, for now, he sucks it up. 

He’s older than most of the other residents in his building, sure, but he’s a college kid himself now. A part-time one, but one nonetheless. Miller’s probably right—that he should stop whining about it and just deal with it. If he wants to stay in his apartment until he’s finished with school himself, he’s got to cohabitate with the younger—louder—college students taking over his building. 

But it’s easier said than done. 

There’s one apartment, at the end of his hallway, full of people. It’s probably only a two-bedroom apartment, like his, and there has to be at least five people crammed in there. And because there are so many of them—and they live across the hall from even more college kids they’re friends with—they’re the noisiest apartment on his floor. They come home in the middle of the night laughing or singing or arguing, nearly every night. They’ve been there for almost a year, though, and they definitely look like they could be seniors, so he’s just waiting for them to leave when their lease is up. 

And, for the most part, they do. All except one—the blonde girl he’s actually had to yell at for being too loud. One morning, just before six, he was getting ready to head into work at the coffee shop around the corner, and she was just coming home from god knows where. She was on the phone, yelling at someone, and he’d had enough, so he yelled back. He told her to have some respect and maybe wait until she was in her apartment to start screaming. Even if it hadn’t been so early in the morning, he probably still would have yelled. It had just been one of those weeks. 

At the time, she’d hung up her phone without even letting the person on the other end know and started yelling back  _ at him _ —albeit, quieter than she had been on the phone—to remind him that he was also yelling and to tell him that maybe  _ he  _ should have some respect. Bellamy had just stormed away after that and the two of them hadn’t exchanged anything more than dirty looks since. 

That was almost six months ago, back in the spring, when all of her friends were still living in the apartment with her. Now, it’s October and she’s been alone for a month and they still don’t speak and they avoid all interaction when they end up in the hallway or at the mailboxes at the same time. But today, something’s different. 

Today, she is holding a pet carrier of some sort and there are soft mews coming from it. At least two different mews, to be more accurate. “Um, there are no pets allowed in the building,” he says without thinking and she looks over at him, surprised. “Are they cats?”

“Check your mail more often,” she tells him once she finally unlocks her door and is able to place the cats inside her apartment. “A notice went out last week. Cats and dogs under 50 pounds are now allowed.”

“Seriously?”

“Would I lie to you?” she asks, too sweetly to be sincere.

“I don’t know. Probably.”

“Check your mail and find out for yourself,” she says before walking inside and closing her door. 

On his way out of the building, he does stop by his mailbox, just to check. Since all of his bills are paperless and his friends don’t really send mail, he only stops by his mailbox once every two weeks or so. But he’s curious about the new pet policy in the building—not that he wants one, necessarily, but it’s good to know his options. He digs through, leaving all of the fliers and coupons in there, until he finds the notice his neighbor mentioned. And, sure enough, she wasn’t lying to him. Not that he thought she was, but she could have been just to get him off her back. He wouldn’t have even blamed her. 

After their brief interaction in their shared hallway, they go back to avoiding each other. It’s pretty easy, since they only see each other about once a week and they’re almost always going in opposite directions. When he sees her open her front door about two weeks later, though, he doesn’t turn away like he normally would, because he hears the kittens again, and then he sees them run toward her, and it’s actually pretty damn cute. The cats, not the girl. He couldn’t care less about the girl, even when she smiles at the kittens and greets them with a shower of playful, noisy kisses. 

And then, a week after that, he gets off the elevator and sees one of the kittens trying to catch its tail in the hallway. He’s only seen it once before, but he knows it’s hers. No one else—that he knows of—has jumped on the pet train yet. She’s definitely the only one on their floor with any. 

Thankfully, it’s a friendly cat and comes right to him when he tries to get its attention. He’s not sure if it’s a boy or a girl, but it’s a beautiful cat—all long black fur with a patch of white on its chin. It lets him pick it up, so he walks to the end of the hall and hesitates only slightly before knocking. After a couple of seconds, the kitten in his arm starts squirming, so he switches his focus down instead of just staring at the door. 

His free hand comes up to cradle the cats head and scratch behind its ears. The fur is soft and shiny and the cat starts purring immediately. It almost makes Bellamy want to go get one of his own after he’s dropped this one off to its rightful owner.

“That’s my cat.”

He didn’t even hear the door open, but when he looks up, his neighbor is watching him with her arms crossed. “Yeah, that’s why I’m here,” he tells her, handing the cat over. “It was roaming the hallway.”

“Shit.” She sighs and pets the cats back. “I thought she was sleeping with her brother in the other room. She must have made her escape when I brought in the groceries.”

“Yeah, cats can be pretty shifty,” he tells her, getting a glimpse of the other cat as he enters the living room. “I’m Bellamy, by the way.”

“Clarke,” she tells him, extending a hand. He shakes it quickly before stuffing both of his into his pockets. “Thanks for bringing her back.”

“No problem. She’s cute. I might have to go get one myself.”

“You’re alone and miserable, too, right?”

“Alone,” he agrees. “Not miserable.”

“Right.” She doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t fight her on it, either. “Cats are good when you live alone, I’ve come to find. They’re pretty self-sufficient, but they love to give you attention, too. At least these two do.”

“Good to know,” he says and she smiles tightly, clearly waiting for him to make his exit. But he hesitates again. “Are you really miserable?” he can’t help but ask.

“I just miss having people around,” she admits, shifting her cat to the crook of her other arm. “I mean, don’t you?”

“I’ve only ever lived with family. By the time I finally got my apartment to myself, it was kind of a huge relief.”

“I guess you seem like the type that likes to be alone,” she tells him, studying him a bit. “I bet you love that my friends are gone and I have no excuse to be loud and obnoxious anymore.”

“I do love it, actually.” Bellamy smiles at her and she rolls her eyes—but it’s not unkind, it’s almost playful. “Don’t lose the cats or you’ll really be miserable.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

He shrugs and turns to leave. He hears Clarke close her door only once he’s reached his and, for some reason, it makes him smile again.

\--

Bellamy decides not to get a cat, at least not anytime soon. He knows they’re self-sufficient and pretty easy to care for, but he also knows that he has a job and goes to classes at night and he’s just not around enough. He also decides that, since he’s not getting a cat for himself, he’s going to find a way to hang out with his neighbor’s cats. Even if he doesn’t like her all that much, her kittens seem pretty cool.

“Hi,” she says, opening her front door for him. He tries his most charming smile, but Clarke just keeps looking at him like he has no business being at her door. “What did I do wrong now?”

“Well, your cat just escaped again,” he tells her as the cat squeezes between them and saunters down the hallway like she owns it.

“That’s your fault,” she tells him before shoving past him to get the cat. “Georgie, come on,” she chastises, picking it up. 

“Georgie?” he asks as she walks back inside where the other kitten is sitting quietly. “What’s the other one’s name?”

“Freddie,” she says, turning to look at him again. “This one’s Georgia, technically. What do you want, Bellamy?”

“You remember my name.” He’s genuinely impressed, but she just narrows her eyes at him.

“Does that mean you don’t remember mine? Is that why you’re here? To ask my name? So you can write a strongly worded letter to the building management about something I’ve done wrong and make sure it’s about the right person?”

“No,  _ Clarke _ . That’s not why I’m here.” Clarke smiles at that, and it seems like a real, genuine smile. He likes it, honestly. “I found this at the store earlier and, I don’t know, I thought your cats might like it.”

He shoves a plastic bag into her hand and watches as she pulls out a feather on a string. “You bought my cats a toy?” she asks, placing Georgie onto the apartment floor. “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t have time or patience for a cat of my own, but…” he falters, crossing his arms, “but I thought I might be able to hang out with yours.”

“You don’t like me,” Clarke reminds him and Bellamy smiles again. 

“Not particularly,” he agrees and Clarke shakes her head. “But I do like your cats. At least the girl one. She’s the only one I’ve properly met.”

“You’re weirder than I thought you were,” Clarke says, moving aside. She fans her hand out and Bellamy accepts the offer and steps inside. 

“I get that a lot, actually.”

“My friends are going to have a field day when they hear this story,” she mutters. “The angry neighbor trying to make friends with my cats.”

“I’m not angry,” he argues and she just scoffs. “All you college kids just came in here and messed with the simplicity of this place.”

“All you college kids? You sound like an old man yelling at us to get off your lawn.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“How long have you lived here? I always figured you moved in when you were in college, too.”

“Nineteen years,” he says and the shock on her face is almost comical. “I grew up here with my mom and my sister. My mom died and we stayed because the rent was cheap and the owner likes us. My sister moved out a few years ago and I just decided to stay. At the time, I had friends in the building and didn’t  _ have  _ to move, so I didn’t.”

“That’s almost my entire life,” she breathes and Bellamy laughs, sitting on the floor to get closer to the cats. “Seriously, I was  _ two  _ when you first moved in here.”

“I was six.” He shrugs and Clarke lowers herself to sit next to him. The cats are sniffing his hands and his shoes and he thinks they might be the cutest kittens he’s ever seen. “Where’d your friends go, anyway?”

“Raven moved out of town for grad school. Monty and Jasper moved in to their own two-bedroom, since they decided it was time to have their own rooms, and I stayed because I can afford it and I like this building and it’s pretty close to work,” she told them, tossing the feather part of the toy he bought out toward the center of the room. They both laugh at how quickly the cats go after it and laugh harder when she pulls it toward her again and they go after it too fast that one of them skids on the hardwood into its bed. “Where did your friends go? The ones that lived in the building?”

“Most people move out after they graduate. They did, at least,” he explains. “Before college kids took over, there were a bunch of younger couples and roommates, like in their late twenties. It was like that for a while, since I was about eighteen or so,” he tells her and she nods. After a second, he says, “I thought you had another roommate? Another girl?”

“No, not technically,” she tells him, pulling her knees into her chest. “I had a girlfriend that just hung out a lot, like most nights. But we broke up almost five months ago.”

“Oh, sorry for bringing it up, then.”

“Don’t worry,” Clarke insists, waving it off.  “So you’re twenty-five?”

“I am.”

“You must really like it here.”

“I do,” he says, watching Georgie fall onto her back and still try and catch the feather Clarke is taunting her with. “Or I did, before it got overrun with all you college kids.”

“Seriously, you’re  _ twenty-five _ , not sixty-five.”

“I do like it here,” he admits, seriously. “And now that I’m in school myself, I can’t really move. I don’t have time to look for a new place and I make less money now, since I’m only working one job. This place is too good to give up until I graduate.”

“You keep saying you don’t have time for anything—cats or to look for a new apartment—but you have time to sit in my living room and play with  _ my _ cats?” 

“Just barely. I mean, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Thanks.” 

Clarke smiles at him and hands over the toy. “While you’re here, do you want a beer or something?”

“Sure,” he says and she gets up and leaves him alone with the kittens. Freddie’s biting his thumb, trying to dislodge the toy from his hand, while Georgie is chasing the other end back and forth until she finally catches the feather. As soon as she does, her brother jumps on her and tries to wrestle it out of her mouth. “Cats are crazy,” he says when Clarke comes back. She hands him a beer, but sits on the couch instead of the floor again. 

“They’re fun,” she says, watching them wrestle. “I really like these two. I didn’t think I’d like cats, but I knew I couldn’t be trusted with a dog.”

“So, you just saw the pet notice and ran out to adopt them?”

“No, I found them to adopt online and went to the office and asked if they could revisit their pet policy. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one asking, so they did. Then I ran out and adopted them,” she tells him, smiling at him smugly.

“You always get what you want, don’t you?”

“I used to,” she admits, crossing her legs and leaning into her couch cushions. “Not so much anymore. But when I do, I’m not just going to let the opportunity slip through my fingers. I wanted kittens, I asked if I could get them, they said yes, so I did it.”

“Maybe if I ask them to stop renting out to loud, unruly college kids I’ll get what I want.”

“Probably not. That’s asking an awful lot.”

He stays there—on Clarke’s floor—for about an hour total. When he finishes his beer and the cats look like they’re about to fall asleep, he tells her he should probably go. “Thanks for letting me borrow your cats.”

“Anytime,” she tells him. “Seriously, all my friends are gone. I could use the company.”

“Cool,” Bellamy says, pushing himself to stand. “Well, you know where I live if you ever want to borrow something of mine.”

“I do. Thanks.”

\--

It becomes routine after that. When Bellamy’s finished with his homework, on his nights off from school and work, he finds himself on Clarke’s living room floor. She’s usually on the couch, with her computer or a sketchbook on her lap. They talk while the cats play with or around them and they make each other laugh without even trying. 

It’s weird—getting to know someone you didn’t even like a few weeks ago—but they’re able to joke about it now. She teases him for acting like a grumpy old man and he rolls his eyes playfully at all her ridiculous stories that fill in the gaps of what Bellamy only glimpsed from across the hall. She’s not a bad person. She never was. Bellamy can admit that, and he does.

“Gee, thanks,” she laughs in return and he pushes himself to stand. He’s been in her apartment for over an hour and the cats are tired of him, walking down the hall to Clarke’s bedroom. “You’re not either.”

“Well, thanks for that,” he tells her and she shrugs one shoulder, like it’s no big deal. “And, you know, the cats and the company.”

“Stop thanking me for that,” she tells him again. She also told him three nights ago, the last time he was over. “Especially since I need to ask you a favor.”

“Of course you do,” he teases, crossing his arms. She glances at the empty cushion next to her and he sits down. “What’s up, Clarke?” He’s worried now. This seems more serious and formal than any other favor she’s asked—which has never been more than asking him to answer the door when they order pizza. 

“Nothing like that,” she promises, seeing the tension in his shoulders. “I have to go visit my mom this weekend and I was wondering if you could just check on Georgie and Fred while I’m gone. Maybe give them some treats?”

“Oh,” he says, almost confused at the simplicity of the request. “Of course.”

“You’re the best,” she says before hopping off the couch and disappearing into the kitchen. She does that a lot—leaves him without an explanation until she comes back with her phone to show him something funny on YouTube, or to bring him a beer that he didn’t ask for but always appreciates. “My key,” she announces when she comes back. “I’m leaving straight from work on Friday. I know you work Friday nights, but if you could stop in before you go to bed, I’d really appreciate it. I’ve never left them home alone overnight. I have no idea if they’re going to kill each other or pee on my couch, you know? Just show them they’re not completely alone and maybe there won’t be any errant pee that I have to worry about.”

Bellamy laughs and stands up to take the key from Clarke. “No problem.”

“Seriously,” she breathes, stepping closer. Before he knows it, her hands are on his shoulders and she’s pulling herself closer to press a kiss to his cheek. “ _ Thank you _ .”

He swallows and nods quickly, way too taken aback. “You’re welcome,” he tells her and she smiles. “I probably won’t see you before you leave, but have a good weekend.”

“I won’t,” she says with an easy smile and she takes her hands off his shoulders and steps back to let him by. “My mom and I don’t get along so great, but it’s her birthday, so I’m making an effort.”

“Well,  _ try  _ to have a good weekend, then.” Clarke nods and Bellamy puts his hand up to wave as he leaves.

When he gets back to his apartment, he’s not surprised to find Miller on his couch. They had plans at 7 to play videogames and it’s already 7:10. “Where have you been?” he asks, switching the TV over to Bellamy’s PlayStation. 

“I was at Clarke’s,” he says, sitting down next to him and pulling the controllers from under his coffee table. 

“Who the hell is  _ Clarke _ ?”

“My neighbor,” Bellamy says, handing Miller a controller and a headset. “Across the hall. She has kittens.”

“ _ She  _ has kittens?” Miller asks, surprised. “Which apartment are we talking about?”

“The one at the end of the hall,” he says, knowing he’s about to get made fun of. 

“Oh my god. The one you yelled at last spring?” 

“Yes,” he admits and Miller howls a laugh. “Why is that funny?”

“You’re going over there to hang out with her kittens? Are you guys friends? Are you into her?”

“She’s pretty cool,” he says and Miller shakes his head. “I don’t know. Her cats are awesome. Her friends all moved out, so now we’re just hanging out every few days. It’s nothing… real.”

“But you do like her,” Miller says slowly. “Don’t you?”

“She’s hot,” Bellamy admits. “She’s easy to talk to. She’s not afraid to call me on my shit. I don’t  _ not  _ like her.”

“I can’t believe you like her. I can’t believe you yelled at her and now you’re into her.” He’s still laughing and Bellamy doesn’t even blame him. Then, there’s a knock on his door and Miller shoots up to answer it so quickly, Bellamy doesn’t even know what’s happening. “Hi,” he greets and Bellamy stands up and sees Clarke over his shoulder.

“You’re not Bellamy.” She sounds confused and Miller is blocking her view, so Bellamy walks over to the door and shoves him out of the way. “ _ You’re  _ Bellamy.”

“Clarke,” he says and she smiles, handing him another key. “You already gave me this. Like two seconds ago.”

“No, I accidentally gave you the key to the building, which you obviously already have,” she explains. Bellamy reaches into his pocket and trades her. “Thank you,” she says before she walks into the apartment. “Who are you? Did you used to live in the building? You started the takeover, didn’t you?”

“I was in the first wave, yes,” Miller says. “I’m Miller, the only other person in this building Bellamy has ever liked. Until now, I guess.”

“Well, you don’t live in the building anymore. Maybe he can only like one person here at a time. His sister, you, and now me.”

“Huh, I never thought of it that way,” Miller considers, crossing his arms and glaring at Bellamy. “Is that how it works in your head, man?”

“It’s all coincidence,” Bellamy promises. “Don’t read too much into it. And I don’t like either of you all that much anyway.”

“Sure you don’t,” Clarke says, rolling her eyes. “I should go. You boys have fun.”

“Goodnight,” Bellamy calls after her and she leaves with a wave over her shoulder just before his door falls shut in her wake.

“Oh my god,” Miller gasps, crossing his arms smugly. “You’re screwed.”

\--

Bellamy doesn’t believe Miller. He’ll be fine when it comes to Clarke. He only  _ kind of _ has feelings for her. The only reason he started talking to her at all was because of her kittens. Those, he can handle.  _ Those  _ he likes. And, more importantly, he knows that they like him back.

They like him so much that when he checks on them after work on Friday, Fred literally starts climbing up one leg while Georgie rubs against the other. He has to reach down to dislodge Fred from his jeans and cradle him in his arms just so he can continue walking into the apartment, but once he’s on the couch with him, Georgie is on the cushion next to him, begging for attention. 

He stays there—on Clarke’s couch, surrounded by her cats—longer than he normally would. He doesn’t feel like he’s imposing when she’s not around. He doesn’t start to feel awkward when the cats start losing interest in him. They’ve been alone longer than usual, so it takes them longer to lose interest. 

It takes even longer on Saturday when he spends the day at the library and the night at work. He doesn’t even get over to check on them until well after 1 AM and they’re waiting for him when he lets himself into Clarke’s apartment. He lays on her couch, letting Georgie and Freddie—Georgie is still his favorite, but Freddie demands a lot more attention—play on his chest. When they start to settle down, he glances at his phone and sees that it’s after 2 and his eyes are already starting to fall slowly shut.

But he doesn’t move. In fact, Bellamy doesn’t move until he hears a door falling shut and feels claws in his leg and arm for just a brief second before the cats jump off him and run toward the door.

“Holy shit,” he groans, looking down at his arm to see a small scratch. When he looks up, Clarke is holding Freddie in her arms and crouching down to let Georgie press her face into hers. “Hi.”

“Good morning,” she smiles, putting the cats down. “What are you doing here?”

“Got in late,” he says, sitting up slowly. “We must have fell asleep.”

“It was actually pretty cute until I moved and let the door close,” she tells, pushing his legs off the couch so she can sit down. She hands him her phone and shows him a picture of him and the kittens sleeping. “Thanks for hanging out with them.” 

“They’re easy,” he tells her, waving it off. “You’re back earlier than I thought you’d be.”

“It’s not as early as you think,” she says with a laugh. “I had breakfast with my mom at 8 and drove three and a half hours back here. It’s afternoon already.”

“Wow. Sorry you had to find me like this.”

“I don’t mind,” she promises. “I kind of liked it, actually.”

Bellamy’s still kind of asleep, so it takes him longer than he’d like to admit to really hear what Clarke just said. “Wait. You did?”

“Hot guy sleeping with two adorable kittens?” she asks, looking down at her lap. “Yeah. I definitely liked it.”

“Hot guy?” he asks, just to make sure he’s hearing everything right. “As in me? I’m the hot guy in that scenario?”

“Bellamy,” she sighs, looking up at him again. Her cheeks are flushed and it’s so damn cute. “You know you’re hot. I’m also pretty sure you know that  _ I  _ know that.”

“I didn’t,” he tells her. He runs his hand through his hair—which must look ridiculous after a night on the couch. Definitely  _ not  _ hot. “I didn’t, actually.”

“Well, now you do.”

They look at each other for a few seconds and Bellamy feels the smile stretch across his face as Clarke rolls her eyes. But she can’t keep the smile off her face, either. “You know I’m into you, right?” he asks and she laughs.

“I suspected,” she admits. “You clearly didn’t know that I’m also into you, though. Which I am, to be clear.”

“Oh,” he breathes, letting out a little laugh. “Good. That’s good to know.”

He feels her hands on his cheeks and looks up from the floor—where his eyes had averted once they started talking about feelings. He moves closer to her on the couch and puts one of his hands on the middle of her back, which causes her to lean in. When their lips touch, it’s soft—sleepy almost, because he still is half asleep. He just hopes he isn’t dreaming. 

When he pulls back—to make sure—Clarke is trying to contain another smile, but it’s dancing in her eyes, and Bellamy leans in to kiss her deeper this time. When her arms wrap around his neck and her chest presses against his, he lies back and pulls her with him. 

“This is the only way I want to wake up from now on,” he tells her, without thinking and she laughs against him. He can feel it through his entire body. 

“I’ll do my best,” she promises, kissing him again. 

They continue like that for what could be minutes or hours—he’s not sure—until Clarke gasps against his mouth and Bellamy opens his eyes to see Georgie settling in to get comfortable on her back. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Come find me on [Tumblr](http://bellamyfrecklefaceblake.tumblr.com)!


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